


Milk Cow

by all_not_well



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Body Modification, Consent Issues, Dom/sub, F/M, Humiliation, Lactation Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 05:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3279062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_not_well/pseuds/all_not_well
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Astoria is in need of her daily milking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Milk Cow

Astoria's arms are crossed beneath her breasts and bound, wrist to elbow, so that they plump up her full, aching tits. Her husband was obligated to attend a charity event the day before, so did not have time to milk her, and his mistress was far too busy with her own pursuits to take care of it. Of course Astoria is not permitted to milk herself, so she simply had to be bound until her next milking-time.

It's maddening, having her hands so close to her engorged nipples but unable to properly reach them. Her fingers twitch helplessly, uselessly, against the soft undersides of her breasts. Her sensitive nipples throb in the cool air. They are long and puffy, a pretty rose-pink. The Mistress likes to say that they are getting to be proper little cow teats. Daily milking certainly seems to have made her nipples longer than Astoria remembers them being before her marriage. Her breasts themselves are far larger as well, swollen tight and so very heavy.

She's been left to her own devices for much of the day, as usual, meandering aimlessly through the austere halls of Malfoy Manor in search of some distraction from her discomfort. The Mistress played with her a little at feeding time - the Mistress finds it amusing to engorge Astoria's tongue so that Astoria may lick and soothe her own nipples, coaxing a little milk free and giving her a small measure of relief. This time it wasn't near enough to ease the constant ache in her breasts, however. Astoria needs to be milked. She craves it with every fiber of her being.

She watches the clocks, wandering from one to another as the hour approaches, willing time to pass more quickly. Finally, _finally_ , the grandfather clock in the hall chimes the appropriate hour. She makes her way on bare, silent feet to her husband's study. The heavy brass bell at her neck clangs softly with each step.

She pauses in the doorway. Her husband - her Master - is engrossed in paperwork of some sort. The Mistress reclines on the sofa, a book in her hand and a plate of cheese and fruit at her elbow. They look cozy and content, and possibly unwilling to be disturbed. But a throb in her heavy tits spurs Astoria on. She swallows hard, her thick leather collar tightening briefly about her neck.

"Moo." 

Her anxiety makes her throat tight and dry, and she barely manages to choke out the sound. The Master's quill never pauses in its scratching. 

"Did you hear something, Pansy?"

"Hmm?" The Mistress glances up from the book in her hands, her hard blue gaze falling on Astoria for the briefest moment. "No, I didn't hear a thing." She selects a piece of cheese and chews delicately, then settles back against the sofa, her attention focused once more on her book.

Astoria's face burns. As much as she craves her milking, it's always so humiliating to have to ask, particularly in the presence of the Mistress. She's sure her face is as red as a tomato by now. She can feel sweat beading at her temples, crawling cool and ticklish on her scalp to dampen her unbound hair. She licks her lips and shifts her weight from one foot to the other, then gives a little shake so that the bell on her collar clangs again.

"Moooo." She tries to put some urgency into the sound. She can feel herself leaking, sticky dampness trickling down the underside of her breast to pool in the crease of her elbow. "Moooo."

"Ah." The Mistress glances at the Master. "I do believe your little cow wants milking."

"Moo," Astoria agrees. Her breasts begin to tingle with anticipation.

"Already?" The Master tsks softly and shuffles through a stack of parchment.

"Moooo."

"So it would seem." The Mistress stretches, arching her back and flexing her slippered feet. "Would you like me to take care of it, Draco darling? I don't mind - I can see you're quite busy today."

Astoria bites the inside of her cheek to suppress a grimace. The Mistress is neither kind nor careful; her icy fingers pinch and pull relentlessly, giving no quarter. Astoria shudders at the thought of those fingers on her breasts. Her bell's muffled clang sounds pained to her ears.

The Master gives Astoria a brief, assessing glance, his grey eyes cold and impersonal as he rakes them down her body, taking in the swell of her breasts and the flush that colors her pale skin.

"I might as well do it myself," he says finally. "I could use a respite from the drudgery of paperwork."

"You'd prefer the drudgery of your chores, then?" the Mistress asks with a light laugh. "As you wish." She shuts the book with a snap. "I'll have your tea ready for you in the conservatory when you've finished, then, darling. We might as well enjoy the sunshine while we have it." She crosses to the Master's chair and bends to give him a thorough kiss. 

Astoria hugs herself with her bound and folded arms, biting down hard on her lip to keep from making any sound despite the increasingly heavy ache in her tits. She has learned better than to disturb the Master and Mistress when they are preoccupied with each other.

After several long and languid kisses, the Mistress finally straightens and turns to leave the room. Astoria steps aside and bows her head respectfully. Gooseflesh prickles her bare skin in the faint breeze stirred by the Mistress's passing.

The Master pauses to make note of something on a parchment, ignoring Astoria's squirming as she waits. Finally he sighs and gets to his feet, reaching for the leash on a hook by the door. He clips the leash to Astoria's collar. 

"Come along, little cow."

He pulls her haplessly behind him as he strides down the hallway. She trots to keep up with his pace, each step bringing a jolt of pain to her bouncing tits and causing her bell to clang wildly.

The milking room was once a lounge, with wide windows facing out over the manicured front lawn. It is empty of furnishings now, save for a tall cupboard and the iron stanchion that the Master'd had custom-built for Astoria as a surprise wedding gift. Bent over and locked into the stanchion, she cannot lift her head to see out of the window - but anyone approaching the Manor would be able to look in and see her there, naked and vulnerable. She has no idea whether anyone ever has. The Master does not deign to tell her these sorts of things.

Her hands are briefly unbound, then locked into the metal stanchion on either side of her head, leaving her breasts to hang full and heavy in her bent position. The Master summons a tin pail and a three-legged stool, placing the pail on the stool just below Astoria's breasts, then steps away for a moment. Astoria can hear the sound of the cabinet doors opening and closing, and braces herself for what she knows will come next.

Despite her intimate knowledge of the milking routine, she cannot help but give a startled yelp at the sudden cold wet press of a lubed plug against her arsehole. The Master gives her a firm smack on her arse, reminding her of her place.

"Moo," she says unhappily as the thick plug is pushed inexorably forward; with her hands bound for the past day, she has not been able to lube or stretch her arsehole for the breach, and it _hurts_. She arches her back and squirms, trying to evade it, only to receive another sharp smack for her trouble.

"Be still." The Master's voice is little more than a growl. He gives her one more smack for good measure as the plug slowly sinks home. "Behave, little cow."

Astoria blinks back tears as the pain begins to subside into a dull ache. "Moo. Moooo."

The Master works the plug in and out, stretching her hole around the widest part, getting her nice and loose.

"Moooooo," she moans, and thrusts back a little against the plug as it is pushed back in.

"Very good, little cow." Her Master's voice is low and warmly intimate. "That's exactly right, my lovely." 

A tight knot in Astoria's gut unclenches, going soft and lax at the praise. She droops in the stanchion, letting it take the weight of her upper body, rocking back and forth on her heels to match the steady thrust of the plug in her arse.

Her Master's long, nimble fingers find her left breast and begin to pull at her nipple. Milk spurts into the pail. Astoria's cunt pulses eagerly at the loud, tinny whoosh of sound.

She's been primed by now to find her pleasure in the letting down of her milk. It's been seven months since her Master first cast the spell to induce lactation. She has been trained ever since to come only during her milking. She knows that she requires the constant reminder of her place in the household. She is not the Mistress of this Manor, after all: she is only the brood cow, bought and paid for with Malfoy galleons for the express purpose of creating a well-bred Malfoy heir. Her husband has his mistress for more pleasurable pursuits. Astoria is fortunate that he allows her this small pleasure in her duty.

Later he will bend her over and fuck her, perhaps after his tea or just before he locks her into her straw-lined room for the night. She will take it patiently like a good little cow, and hold his come plugged inside her until morning so as to increase her chances of conception.

For now, she moos her pleasure and relief as the ache in her tits eases and is replaced by a throbbing ache in her cunt. She squeezes her muscles around the plug in her arse and falls apart to soothing murmurs and deftly tugging fingers.

"That's it, my good girl, my perfect little milk cow," her Master says when she subsides, panting and quivering, against the metal frame holding her in place. He gives a fond pat to her arse as he slides the plug free. She is milked all but dry, her nipples raw and sore. He rubs a little cream into them to keep them soft, his fingers pinching and pulling the last few drops into the pail as he does so.

"M-moo-oo-ooo," Astoria sobs, grateful for her Master's care.


End file.
